self destruct mechanisms
by plasmacandy
Summary: The graves they dig themselves. —Julie x Shun x Dan, drabbles
1. of empirical formulas

**||self destruct mechanisms**

x•x•

—_of empirical formulas_

|each is more spectacular than the last|

x•x•

"Believe my lies" - was her disjointed catchphrase, spoken out loud through glittering smiles and flashy winks. And he _had_ believed them, at least in part: he'd thought that maybe in the deepest part of her shallow heart, those whispered confidences and trite confessions were half-true.

Thought not much was true when it came to Julie; princess of wishful thinking. So how had he - critical minded and so, so world-weary - gotten caught up in her staged love affair?

He supposed he was lonely. But he liked this, the dulled pang of his single heartbeat; he liked sitting alone, with no one but that familiar ghost to talk to. He liked being lonely, because then he didn't have to think about _them_, and their annoying persistence.

"Man, you know her." Julie's other half grinned easily, leaning back and letting the shingles cushion his head. "She wasn't trying to hurt you or anything. That's just how she is."

He shrugged in turn, letting the wind carry away the leaf held between his thumb and index fingers. The brunette watched him curiously, brushing wayward strands of hair away from warm eyes.

"Just don't get all pissy and go back to that staring-out-windows phase."

The corner of his lips quirked in spite of himself. He said nothing.

Dan rolled over on his side, sighing at the wisp of a moon suspended in the near-morning sky. "If you're gonna be like that, fine."

He almost spoke then, if he weren't so sure his words would've been lost on the wind. It was too ethereal - the glow in Dan's eyes, the way he managed to make bungling idiocy seem so sincere. He almost felt guilty; and that was the worst part of this sad revelation.

"Just don't blame her."

Warm sepia is fixated on him again. Shun holds the earnest gaze for a moment, before returning his eyes to the pinprick of light metaphorical galaxies away.

"I won't blame you," he murmurs, voice not quite loud enough.

x•x•

She meets him with a smile on her face and a bounce in her step, hair swishing around her shoulders in a way that resembles elegance. Untrue, he thinks, arranging his expression into one of schooled indifference.

"Hello," she sings, brushing her fingertips along his forearm. "I haven't seen you in forever."

He regards her carefully, trying to read her scrambled signals. How could he have let her this close - that she knew his vulnerability, how he wasn't as unfeeling as he tried to be, and why exactly he was so fond of staring out windows? He'd let her in and she'd shut him out in a flurry of bright eyes and hollow laughter.

She's looking at him now, watching his mind spin like clockwork. He starts, turning away with a frown.

"Aw, you're not mad at me, are you?"

He recognizes the delighted irony dancing in her eyes. "No," he answers honestly, because he's beyond anger now. She leans closer, hands finding his shoulders.

"Good."

As she leans forward, protest stirs within him, among the fragmentations of something broken. But his voice is silenced when her lips find his.

To her, he is something borrowed. She holds his brittle feelings - what he has left of them, anyway - in the palm of her hand; something to amuse her when others tire of her games. And he knows, to Dan, he is something unreachable; the recipient of subtle feelings that had existed maybe even since the beginning of time.

But to neither does he belong - if only he had the resolve to tell them so.

Julie's fingers run through his hair as she presses herself closer still, and all the unwritten words die in his heart.


	2. of grinning disasters

**||self destruct mechanisms **

x•x•

—_of grinning disasters_

|each is more spectacular than the last|

x•x•

If there is one thing Dan knows about Julie, it's that she always smiles when she sees him.

He knows it's probably synthetic, but he reasons that _everything _about Julie is probably synthetic, and she's the textbook definition of 'skin-deep.'

It's what makes her endearing, though. Sometimes, all he wants is to kiss a girl with bubblegum lipgloss and sugary perfume.

And most of the time, he doesn't want a human incantation of The Thinker who tries to wax philosophic in too few words. He prefers silver-corded moonbeams to the color of a starless night, and words that are shallow beyond understanding to words that are so deep he could drown in them.

Julie always smiles when she sees him. Usually, he smiles in return.

It is all they've come to expect from each other.

x•x•

But mostly, mostly, he wants to forget.

And maybe he wants to spite the duality of himself (amber wizens only so many blank faces).

x•x•

Wasting the hours away from home are normality for Shun now, because the solitary nights are blending together into one big 'you're-getting-older-aren't-you-going-to-find-someone-someday?' and he's tired of being told that there's a world beyond the dojo

(but what he really wants is an escape from memories of firelit disenchantment).

He doesn't wander the sidewalks to meet girls, and the last girl he wanted to meet was the one perched above the gutter outside of this week's hottest club, crying silently (suprisingly) and not bothering to disguise her bloodshot eyes and mussed hair - if she's even aware of her state of appearance.

Walking would have been the best decision, but curiosity temporarily blocks out his common sense.

"…Julie?"

She glances at him and a half-sob escapes her, and he finds himself sitting, if only because he has nothing better to do and still concrete is relief to tired feet following the same paths to nowhere.

"Did something happen?" He doesn't know why he asks, either.

"N-No," she exhales. When she turns away her shoulders tremble, and to this day she herself does not know if she was laughing or crying then. "I'm just having an off day."

Her voice is different. Maybe she's drunk - but she notices him staring.

"I-I mean, like, I'm kinda depressed and all. 'Cause I was supposed to meet someone here, and they totally stood me up."

The sudden change is almost forgotten in the glaring lights behind them, but it's prominent with each beat of the music leaking out from the opened doors.

"No."

"No?"

"You're lying."

Her expression twists further when she clenches her teeth slightly. "So what if I am? That's not unusual."

The admittance of this obvious revelation is enough to render him un-speechless. "What are you talking about? You're so full of yourself; crying over problems that you caused."

Mascara tracks darken in wake of his words, but she doesn't get angry or raise her voice or stand in sudden flair.

"I just - I don't know how to…change that about myself," she whispers, catching teardrops in-between her fingers. "I can't. Dan needs me to be that way, doesn't he? Everyone does. Even -"

(and then she looks at him, eyes a dangerously dark blue-violet, and smiles gruesomely)

she performs the innocent head-tilt mechanically. "- You prefer me like this, right?"

He'll never admit it, but it's hard for him to see her right now, because he feels like he's supposed to care.

And even if he is supposed to - he doesn't; he has his own life and his own problems and too little emotions to waste precious sympathy on a hot mess of a drama queen. Even one with a wrinkled jacket and a mismatched miniskirt and stains on her face that suspiciously resemble lipstick (which is prominent, coupled with the fragrance of alcohol and two different brands of perfume). For a moment he forgets his preset apathy, and wonders where she's been and who she's been _with_.

"Shun." Her voice is sensationally horrible in comparison to the club remix of the JJ Dolls' latest chart topper throbbing in the background.

"What?"

"You can leave now."

As the song crescendos, he is silent. It's a bad part of town and he doubts Julie is in any state to walk home, even if she weren't wearing high-heels. But then again, it's not his problem. And judging by the ease with which she leans back against the brick wall, framed by graffiti, this part of town is not one she's entirely unfamiliar with.

Maybe, in the end, Julie just isn't the type of girl that invites chivalry. Maybe, in the end, he just isn't the type of guy to offer it.

So he stands.

He doesn't have to tell himself not to look back.

x•x•

The next time Julie sees Dan, he smiles at her.

She doesn't smile in return.


End file.
